


Touch

by Abecedary



Category: Whitechapel (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-20 03:06:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7388077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abecedary/pseuds/Abecedary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is my first fic. </p><p>Set after Series 4.<br/>Chandler gets a bit of a push from Miles. Kent decides its now or never...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touch

Chapter 1

 

 

 

“Done and dusted!” Miles strode into the dim incident room followed quickly by Buchan. He looked pleased with himself, a shared satisfaction and an inclusive smugness, intended for all of them. As a unit.

“Pub, Skip?” Its was ten minutes before end of shift, but Mansell was already reaching for his coat as he asked.

“Abso-bloody-lutely. Kent?” He knew Riley and Buchan would be coming. Kent looked to be searching his brain for a decent excuse but wasn’t given the chance and Miles rapped on the glass separating the them from the office.

“Boss? Fancy it?” he called out. He knew he could hear him.

Riley began the ritual of riffling through her handbag checking for keys, phone, wallet as Mansell continued to fight the chair for his jacket. The door to the office opened, slowly enough that nobody looked up, or almost nobody. DCI Chandler lingered there a moment, one hand loosely gripping the brass handle, the other holding a dog-eared file at a distance from him that suggested reading glasses might be an idea. He was half in and half out of the room, scanning the page distractedly.

Responding with a drawn out “uh-huh…”. They all looked up to watch him dragging his eyes, effortfully, away from the page, his hand dropping to the side. He caught Miles eye.

“Yes. Deserved, I think” he smiled, retreating to gather his coat and brief case. Miles didn’t bother asking Kent again. He knew he never said no if the boss is tagging along and as the second hand tipped the hour into 6 o’clock, they all filed out of the station.

 

* * *

 

 

They ended their evenings at The Bull often enough to have their own table. It was the furthest from the door, right in the corner, padded bench seating in a curve behind it and a couple of stools facing. It wasn’t theirs per-say, but if they rocked up and someone else was on it, things just weren’t right. This night it was just sitting there waiting for them.

“What’ll it be boys?” Miles called out as they approached, shooting a quick glance at Riley who seemed oblivious. “Its on the Boss” he smiled as Chandler dutifully headed for the bar.

The barmaid smiled at him as he recounted “Two pints of Pride, a large glass of white, a pint of Orchard, a double single malt, one ice cube and…. Mansell?” He looked back over his shoulder. “Mansell?”

“Why do you always forget mine? Fosters, Boss”

“Because I cant believe you actually drink that stuff, so I will keep asking” he turned back to the bar. “And a pint of Fosters”.

Chandler turned away from her, with a “Thanks” and carefully manoeuvred himself back towards the table with the 3 pints held precariously between his two hands. As Riley got up from her spot on the bench to pick up the rest from the bar, Chandler shuffled into her vacated place.

“I don’t love the stools either, sir” she called over her shoulder with a smile as she realised she’d lost her spot to him.

He didn’t actually mind stools particularly, but this place was next to Kent and that was most definitely the prime spot. He put the 2 Pride down between Miles and Buchan and slid the Orchard in front of his new neighbour onto the waiting cardboard mat. Kent ducked his head in thanks.

Its was times like this that Chandler came closest to being relaxed. Drink in hand. A case successfully tied-up. With no loose ends. Badies caught, as Riley would say. Nothing pressing to do, but before the boredom set in because of it. As he leaned back into the maroon velour padding, lingering over his first long sip, he smiled getting a quirk of Miles eyebrow in acknowledgement of the sentiment.

6 years is a long time. And for something that started out so unpromisingly, Chandler couldn’t now imagine his life without these 5 people. It’s the hard times as much as the good that have built this, and they had had their (un)fair share of the bad. But he felt a rare lightness in his chest this evening that was a mixture of pride in them and the humbling knowledge that together they were a sum greater than their parts. He was comfortable. Comfortable enough to not have noticed that as he had leaned back, his knees had widened away from each other and his right thigh was consequently firmly resting alongside Kent’s left… only the slight tremor in the other mans muscle made him suddenly very aware of it. But he didn’t pull away. Instead he forced his mind away from it and tuned into Riley admonishing Mansell for commenting on the barmaids tits.

“What? I’m just saying!”

“You’re a jerk, Mansell.”

“Its not like I’m saying she wouldn’t be a great conversationalist, is it? I’m just saying that that’s not the first thing that comes to mind. That’s all!”

Both turned to Miles with a look that suggested they equally believe him an ally.

“I have nothing to say.” He smiled taking another sip of ale, “in case Judy’s listening”.

General laughter ensued and Riley threw her hands up in the air nearly toppling her glass of wine over.

“Careful! He might be under-evolved but its not worth loosing your drink over” Buchan said, shifting his stool back out of the action.

Chandler smiled but he was only half listening, there was a low buzzing in his ears induced by the proximity to his dark eyed DC. He could feel his own heart beat, it felt like it would be visible through his shirt. It was building with the realisation that Kent hadn’t shifted away from him either and a gentle, guilty excitement was building in him.

“Didn’t you say you were heading to the coast sometime this weekend, Kent?” Chandler shifted side ways, careful not to break contact but wanting to see his face. Once could be passed off as a mistake, was in fact an accident, he didn’t think he could do it again subtly enough. His eyes fell on Kent’s profile briefly before his head turned and he caught a glimpse of his eyes as he flashed eye contact from under his dark lashes. They were black. His pupils had relegated the soft brown of his iris to the margins and Chandler dropped his eyes momentarily to watch his adams apple bob as he swallowed. Chandlers mouth went distinctly dry.

“I… I mean… Yeah. Well, no…i” Kent lowered his gaze to the table, and looked despairing as a bit of a hush descended.

“I…I…I…I…” Grinned Mansell. “Cat got your tongue?”

Riley elbowed him gently.

“or should I say, ‘Boss got your tongue?’”

His grin spread wider for a second before Riley’s elbow came back in for another hit, this time much harder. Chandler looked bemused across the table, his eyebrow raised at Mansell. But before he could get his explanation Miles declared it Mansell’s round and forcibly ushered him towards the bar.

Riley offered an apologetic eye-roll towards Kent and Buchan tried to smooth over the issue.

“Umm, yeah, I thought you said you were heading to, where was it? Brighton?” he offered, trying to catch Kent’s eye.

Still feeling like it all went just a bit over his head, Chandler turned back to Kent to notice a distinctly pinker tint on the cheek facing him than a few seconds ago.

“I umm, Yeah. I was, but Harry’s girlfriend got the hump about it.” He offered a short smile of thanks to Buchan and risked a glance to his left. “and he’s so under the thumb these days you can’t see him. We postponed it until next week. Something to do with her sisters birthday, I think”.

“Can you pass me my purse, sir?" Riley called over. "Mansell has conveniently misplaced his.”

She nodded towards Chandler. “Its in my bag, just by your feet”.

Chandler shifted his weight backwards slightly, ducking himself awkwardly under the table. Riley’s bag was a large affair full of lip-balm, tissues and sweetie wrappers. Finding it in the back pocket, he felt a flush of yearning for hand sanitiser wash over him but his attention was caught by the pair of feet just to his left. Kent’s bent legs had lifted the cuff of his trousers up revealing the slimmest slither of pale skin.

Maybe it was the 3 double single malts and no dinner, but before he had thought better of it he gently placed his middle finger against the flesh. Tracing a small slow circle, the tendons seemed to quiver against the pad of his finger as it ran over the exposed ankle bone.

“Sir? The pocket at the back, inside” She called.

“Yep, just trying to the do the bag back up so everything doesn’t just fall out. Here..” he reached his arm up over the table holding the purse and somebody relieved him of it as he continued to make a show of fussing with the bag for a few more seconds before dragging himself back up to sitting. Slightly flushed in the face, explainable by having had his head below his knees. He hoped.

It was actually only with his head back above ground that he realised what he had just done.

_This is ridiculous. Your being completely ridiculous, Joe. Get a grip._

A shiver ran over him that he suppressed it the best he could, it ran down his spine in horror and also, more concerningly, with the effort of not going back for more. He would have excused himself to the men’s room if he thought he had the willpower to just pee and leave again, but that was questionable to say the least.

At least if he was sat there with everyone he had to push that out of his mind.

At some point, Chandler noticed that Kent’s hand had migrated from the table top to resting on his thigh, so close and quite out of sight of the others. Chandler mirrored his action, it felt like they were scouting each other out. He inched his hand towards Kent’s, slowly slowly, almost undetectably. Until in the middle of Mansell telling Miles he was ‘surprized he still had it in him!” and Miles’s huffs of indignation, Chandler lifted his little finger and placed it over Kent’s.

Very gently.

Still laughing at Miles he glanced down to witness the touch. It made something in his chest ache, deep down until his eyes fell just slightly beyond the point where their hands were touching, where Kent wasn’t pulling away from him, to Kent’s lap. The ache rose up from his ribcage and caught dangerously in this throat, at the slow throb that was visible through the well fitting suit trousers.

Chandler’s attention was consumed by the pulse before he could comprehend what he was seeing and he pulled away startled at the effect his touch had had.

_Was it MY touch or just THE touch that caused that? Caused what? Kent to throb, to be so obviously aroused? What am I thinking?!_

Just about to make his excuses to go a splash some water on his face and calm down he realised it was too late and he wouldn’t be standing up for a little while himself. He put both hands on the table, safely on the table and gripped his 2.3rds empty drink with unnecessary force.

He couldn’t really concentrate on what anyone was saying after that and he wanted to just get the hell out of there. As they filed out half an hour later Miles called Chandler back.

“I don’t know what you were doing to the boy in there. I don’t want to know either, mind. But whatever it was” Miles held his finger up towards Chandler’s face, “don’t mess with his heart, Joe.”

And with that he turned into the night towards the waiting cab leaving Chandler reeling.

_How did Miles notice anything? Was I being that god damn obvious? Then again, Miles notices everything….. It doesn’t mean anyone else did. Does it? And what the hell does he mean ‘mess with his heart?’_

 

* * *

 

 

Unlocking his front door, shouldering it gently. He toed off his shoes distractedly and hung up his coat and padded through the flat into the bathroom.

He turned the shower on, running hot and comforting.

Standing there with the warmth of the water easing away his aches and worries, running his hands through his hair.

_Shampoo._

He had thought about Kent in this shower more times than he could count, thought about his dark eyes and his curls. His perfect jaw line and his long eyelashes. Tonight his left little finger burned hotter than the water, it felt different somehow.

He lent his head back into the flow and the foam flowed down over his broad shoulders, down his back. Rivuletting above his buttocks, flowing down and around his thighs, the back of his knees and pooling across his feet. He followed the path across his chest with his flattened palms, he bit his lip as he pointedly avoided touching his now throbbing cock. Images of Kent flashed before his eyes, imagining his own hands were his. He kept re-playing the sight of Kent’s tightening trousers, the shape of him visible through the material rising against his zipper.

“Get a grip, Joe” he said out loud, slamming his fist against the wet, white tiles and frustratedly turned the shower thermostat to icy.

 

* * *

 

 Chapter 2

 

 

Kent lay on his bed, on top of the covers and fully clothed. Hands fisted in the duvet on either side of him in an effort to steady his swinging between humiliation and elation. Hope and stabbing disappointment. The cold dawn light filtering through the window above him.

 

_What the hell happened? Surely it couldn’t have been accidental, could it? His thigh pushed up to mine, against me. He touched my fucking ankle..._

He released his hands and ran his fingers through is curls, gripping, pulling his hair taught and closed his eyes.

 

_He lay his finger on mine… I couldn’t possibly have imagined that. If I did, I have actually lost it. Officially._

“Get a grip, Kent” he said aloud, and swung his legs of the side of the bed lurching towards his bedroom door. He needed a cup of tea. The familiar routine of filling the kettle, getting a mug out, tea bag in… the comfort was short lived as the humiliation of feeling Chandler’s eyes on his groin and his pulling his hand away as if he’d been burnt, resurfaced.

 

_Shit. Did Chandler make a move on me? Was it all accidental and I’m blowing this way out of proportion? I mean, the thigh, yes that could have been, but I can’t of imagined that he traced circles across my ankle, could i? Really? And I watched him inch towards me with his hand. I watched it happen, his long slender fingers creeping towards mine, the arch of this smallest digit as it came down to rest atop mine. It was like wildfire traveling up my arm… and other places…. Shitting Shit! Couldn’t just keep control of yourself could you? Pathetic._

The kettle rumbled way in agreement. And he gripped the edge of the counter and stretched himself backwards. He couldn’t shake the hollow void in his chest, like something had all gone wrong and it was his fault. But he wasn’t sure how. It ached against his ribcage, threatening the steadiness of his breathing. The conversation in his head was cyclical and he made the tea on auto-pilot. He re-played the bemused look on Chandlers face when Mansell took the piss, like he had no idea what was going on. Everyone else has seen it evolve from hero-worship to full blown, barely controlled obsession. At least that’s what they think. They don’t know that he hit a wall that first day DCI Chandler walked into the incident room, long legged and golden and he’s been running up against it every day since. 6 years of watching and longing, its just getting harder to keep control of.

 

Kent perched himself on the arm of the sofa and cradled the tea between his hands, feeling the steam on his face as he blew into it. The bit of this that was playing on his mind most was that if indeed Chandler had made a move on him, however small and was genuinely unaware of his reciprocated feelings then Kent’s big mistake was in not responding to the touch. Other than in the most crude of ways, that he would rather forget. He kept thinking that if he had just curled his finger slightly against Chandlers instead of being frozen stiff, pardon the pun, then…. Maybe…

 

_But is it really possible for him to not be aware that I hang on his every word? I mean, he’s perceptive to a fault with other people but blind when it comes to himself maybe, maybe he just hasn’t seen it?_

And it was there in the blue light of 4am that he decided that 6 years was enough. He would take it in his own hands and find out, if he was rejected then he would simply put in for transfer and try to get on with his life. He couldn’t carry on as he was anyway…

 

* * *

 

 

 

Monday morning saw Kent pacing in the car park outside the station for about 15 minuets before he could get himself through the doors and up the stairs. He was early, hoping to catch Chandler on his own but by the time he got in Miles was already handing out cold cases to review and he didn’t think it was possible to be so disappointed not to be doing something he dreaded so much…

 

He would have to wait out the day. It wasn’t uncommon for the office to just hold the two of them long into the night. Kent watching Chandler through the gaps of his office windows. Sometimes there eyes met and he would get a small smile. He felt like he lived on those moments. The small quirk of his perfect bowed lips, the slightly shy dip of his head in his direction. They were form him, Kent owned those moments.

 

Miles was the last to leave that evening, rapping his knuckles on the door with a “Right Boss. Its home time. See you in the Morning” As he twists himself looking for the second arm of his jacket behind him. One hand on the door to leave he turned towards Kent and opened his mouth like he was about to say something but changed his mind. “Take care Kid” he settled on, and left more slowly that normal.

 

That unnerved Kent enough but then suddenly he was left alone with his decision. He leaned forward on his desk, resting his chin on his hand and settled his eyes on his hearts desire. He was massaging his temples, little pot of tiger balm next to him on the desk. It was now or never and so he pushed his chair back and took the first few steps towards the office. Chandler obviously noticed the movement because he looked up as he approached.

 

“Sir, can I have a word?” he said, as he stuck his head around the door.

 

“Kent?” He looked uncomfortable as the name formed in his mouth but Kent came in anyway. He stood in front of the desk, hands in pockets and then out, then one back in.

 

“Sir, I just wanted to say that I……. What I mean is that…” _Come on now, don’t let me down now. You’ve planned this, just say it…. Or at least say something…_

Chandler raised one fine golden eyebrow towards him, and looked apprehensive. _God, does he know what I’m trying to do? Does he look hopeful, or is that disgust?_

“I, er…..I’m just off home, sir. See you in the morning” _You are pathetic, Emerson Kent. Pathetic….._

 

“Umm, alright Kent. See you tomorrow…” Chandler pushed his chair back slightly and rose to stand. They both expected something else but Kent didn’t move.

 

“Sir, I… Goodnight”. Kent hung his head as he walked out, he closed the door quietly behind him and he didn’t look round to see Chandler’s eyes follow him out of the room.

 

* * *

 

That night Kent turned his face quietly into his pillow, and it absorbed all of his tears.

 

* * *

 

 

Chapter 3

 

Chandler watched Kent’s defeated body leave his office. He wanted so badly to reach his hand out towards him and just tell him it was okay. But what was okay, he didn’t know. Yes, it had to be about what happened at The Bull, but was he asking for an explanation? An apology? He’d spent the entire weekend trying to reconcile what had happened with reality. With what Miles had said. But nothing would come. He left the station shortly after that and spent the night awake wishing he wasn’t crippled by Kent.

 

Laying in his bed felt wrong, his apartment suffocating in its high ceilinged, big windowed way and it felt so far from the warmth of Kent. So after no hours sleep, just as day broke he picked up his car keys from the jar in the hall and left for the office. The office is a ten minuet drive from his flat but he found himself driving north along commercial street. He had dropped Kent home a few times over the years, his unreliable transport method meant he was often without it and Chandler didn’t realise that was where he was headed until he turned down his street and parked his car opposite his front door.

 

_What the hell are you doing? Are you serious, its 4 in the morning. What are you going to do, go up for coffee?_

And so he just switched off his engine and rested his forehead on the steering wheel.

 

_This way madness lays, Chandler. This isn’t a good move. Either go home or go to the office. You cant just sit outside his house all night. Besides, what if he’s just trying to tell you that what you did in the Pub was inappropriate?_

He was probably there for an hour or so as the early light slowly became a bright morning and people started to move around in the streets. He didn’t want to admit it but just being closer to Kent made him feel better, less lost somehow. And it was a wrench to pull away towards the office and the endless paperwork.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

3 storeys above, Kent sat paralysed on the arm of the sofa looking at the black range rover parked outside his house.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“You look terrible, Boss. Did you even go home last night?”

 

“Good morning Miles” Chandler smiled because he realised he probably looked like hell.

 

“Are you alright? Are you having a wobble?” Miles leant on the corner of his desk concerned.

 

“No, no. I’m fine. Honestly. Just couldn’t sleep, that’s all.” He tried to look reassuring but it didn’t work because Miles continues.

 

“Have you spoken to him yet?”

 

“Sorry? Spoken to whom?”

 

Miles heaved a sigh and pulled the visitors chair over. “To Kent, Sir. You don’t have to be a detective of my calibre to realise something finally happened on Friday evening.”

 

Chandler could feel heat rising up the back of his neck. “Miles, I don’t know what you mean but….”

 

“Listen, Joe.” Miles sighed into the cool air of the office. “I don’t know whether your being wilfully ignorant or if you genuinely are as clueless as you seem, but don’t let this slip away. If your interested. Just don’t mess him about, the kid doesn’t deserve that.”

 

“I don’t know what… Its none of your…” Chandler reached into his top draw and pulled out the little pot of tiger balm, unscrewing the gold cap laying it on the surface of his desk. He dipped his finger in and touched both temples lightly before replacing the lid and putting it away again.

 

Miles just waited for him.

 

“I don’t know what I’m doing Ray” and he raised both hands to massage the oil into his temples, closing his eyes.

 

Miles sighed and leant forward. “The kids crazy about you. From what I can tell, your crazy about him. Baring in mind you can be as cold as a dead fish if the mood takes you. Just…” He paused. They both knew what he was suggesting went against all the rules. “Don’t let fear get in the way of you having a chance at being happy…eh?” He held Chandler’s eye for a second longer than would normally be comfortable.

 

Chandler gave him a short nod.

 

“Right, that’s my speech out the way. What thriller of a day do we have ahead of us, glorious leader?”

 

Chandler gave him a short smirk and handed him a folder. “Buchan gave me this yesterday, thinks it might shed some light on the Casy Bluland case.”

 

“Thanks, boss. Really, thanks….” And miles backed out of the office just as Riley bustled in with coat and scarf flailing behind her followed shortly by Kent and Mansell.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Chandler made his exit earlier than usual that evening, he wasn’t ready for the conversation with Kent and he knew he would try again. Chandler smiled at that, DC Kent was nothing if not persistent, he wasn’t likely to just accept his failure last night as the end. Besides, he had been thinking about it and if, _if,_ anything were to happen, the office was not the place. It wouldn’t be fair risking Kent’s job, or the teams (already dubious) reputation.

 

That night Chandler lay awake trying to form the words he wanted to say. Trying to find some path through the minefield of being misunderstood, getting it all completely wrong. Eventually he settled for just picturing how Kent’s eyes nearly swallowed him whole when they sat against each other on that bench. Deep and dark, through thick lashes… and that sent his mind in another direction entirely…

 

 

Chapter 3 

 

 

Kent watched as the black vehicle pulled up out side again in the empty street. He waited, breath caught in his chest but nobody got out.

 

_Right it’s now, Emerson. Now._

And so he padded into his kitchen and filled the kettle. He hooked two cups down out of the cupboard and used the green tea teabags that he had bought weeks ago, just in case…

 

3 minuets later he was juggling keys and two very hot mugs padding down the stairs in his socks.

 

Chandler jumped at the gentle tapping on the window, he hadn’t realised he’d closed his eyes until he was waking up disoriented. He looked at the steering wheel and was relieved to discover he was parked only to remember where and as he turned his head to the Left, the very same dark eyes he had been dreaming of were looking back at him through the window.

 

_Shit, stalker alert. He wasn’t supposed to know I was here. Shit._

But he swallowed the rising panic in his throat and leant across to open the passenger side door.

 

“Tea, sir?” Kent offered as he hooked one leg onto the high seat, careful not to spill. He held one out to Chandler and the unmistakable smell of Chidar Green drifted towards him.

 

“Kent, I…” _I’m not being creepy, I wasn’t watching you or anything… I just wanted to be a bit closer to you. No, that’s still sounds creepy, doesn’t it?_

Kent shifted his other leg inside and closed the door behind him, he was wearing a pair of black and grey wide legged check pyjama bottoms, an old t-shirt and just his socks. He looked so young sat there, looking out the front window of the large car. Chandler studied his delicate profile, the arch of his brow the deep set of those eyes. They sat in silence letting the hot liquid steam up the windows shrouding them against the outside world, as Chandler drank the last sip he reached over and gently took the cup out of Kent’s hands placing it in the foot well next to him.

 

“Kent, I … The other night, I mean at the pub. I umm…” _going well smooth talker…._ “I wanted to say that…”

 

“Joe” Chandler had never heard his name said like that before, and he stopped what ever drivel he was saying.

 

Kent very carefully reached across the hand break and looped his little finger around Chandler’s. “I should have done that last time.”

 

“I umm, yeah” was about all Chandler could manage as he entwined the rest of their fingers.

 

“Do you want to come in, Sir? Its just me, Kate’s away”

 

All chandler could manage was a nod and they both reached for there respective doors delaying untangling their fingers until the last moment.

 

Chandler jogged around the car and scooped his hand into Emerson’s smaller one immediately, reaching back the car beeped locked behind them. Kent put the keys in the door and as they stepped through into the hall Chandler spun him gently, turning him to face him in the dark. He put his free hand against the side of Emerson’s face, running the pad of his thumb along the sharp line of his cheek bone. Kent felt so small, in front of him. He leant down towards him and gently brushed his lips over his.

 

Kent dropped slightly against him, and Chandler looped an arm under and around his waist to support him.

 

Kent breathed against him “I always thought ‘going weak at the knees’ was just an expression” And chandler smiled against his lips, pushing tentatively into the warmth with his tongue.

 

“Sir, we should go up stairs, this a communal hallway”

 

“Enough of the Sir, okay?”

 

Kent shuffled along the wall and led the blond man in his suit and over coat up the two flights of stairs resolutely refusing to let go of him.

 

When the door shut behind them, Kent stood in front of Chandler and Joe moved his eyes over him. From his soft curls to where his pyjama bottoms had fallen slightly to reveal milky white skin stretched over a fragile hip bone. Nothing so far in his life, had felt as obviously right as this. He reached out a hand tentatively to run his fingers over it, Kent quivered under his touch and he wrapped his fingers under his waist band and pulled him towards him.

 

Kent hit into Chandler’s solid form and it seemed to wake them from the dream and all of a sudden lips were clashing. Chandler bent down into Kent’s kiss, tongues dipping into the heat of his mouth. Kent was trying to push the over coat of Chandler’s shoulders and he was trying to help, trying to shuck it off and it landed messily on the floor. Briefly Kent wondered if he should pick it up and hang it up but he seemed amply distracted so as not to even notice. The taller mans hands were back on Kent’s abdomen, creeping up under his loose t-shirt, flat palmed and searching.

 

The t-shirt came off over Kent’s head and Joe held him with one arm behind his back, his free hand tracing a pattern only they could understand across his chest, down the centre of his slender fame. They moved backwards toward the back of the sofa.

 

Joe put an arm under each of Kent’s and pulled his chest up towards him, running his day old stubble across his bare chest, his nose ran over a delicate pink nipple and his mouth attacked it. It was all Kent could do to moan into Chandler’s hair.

 

“Bedroom?” Chandler asked gruffly, his mouth still against his heaving chest, voice thick with wanting.

 

“Behind,.. you,..” Kent managed before Joe manoeuvred his form towards the door.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Chandler used his foot to close the door behind them, shutting out the rest of the world. Kent’s room was small with a large window letting in the first rays of dawn. The pace of Chandler’s kissing slowed in the cool dark room and Emmerson found his feet enough to take his own weight. Pulling apart gently, Kent placed his palm flat against Chandler’s cheek, running the pad of his thumb the length of his straight nose.

 

Standing there Kent was bare chested, his pyjama trousers hanging low and crooked on his sharp hips. Chandler still fully clothed, albeit a little askew. Kent reached his hands down across the front of Chandler’s broad chest, sliding them under the jacket, lifting it away from his shoulders. He moved around the back of him, and hooked it over the back of his desk chair.

 

Chandler’s eyes were on him as he undid each of the 6 buttons down the front of the waistcoat, neither of them making a sound. The waistcoat joined the jacket and Kent entwined his fingers in Chandlers left hand, raised his arm and ran his fingers up towards the cufflink, gently pushing it through the hole, he pressed his lips to the palm as he let it go and moved to the other side to repeat the slow ritual. Something was understood between them that this moment had been waited for so long and there was no rush. Each button of Chandler’s carefully pressed shirt came undone with a single kiss placed on the revealed skin as he moved down his chest. The whole process was slow and languorous. It was only when the shirt was gone and they stood facing each other in the cold light that Chandler moved, leaning in to place his lips against Kent’s once again and they began the slow and equally languid exploration of each others mouths, teeth, marvelling at the fit of themselves.

 

When they eventually made it to the bed, Kent sat on its edge rendering his face at eye level with the waist band of Chandler’s trousers. He raised his hands to the belt and offered up a silent question with his eyes to the man looking down at him but Chandler just closed his eyes and Kent gently undid the buckle. When he glided his hands towards the button and fly he felt the tell tale throb under the soft fabric and he buried his nose in the movement inhaling deeply. A long hiss echoed out into the room above his head and he replied with his own muffled moan.

 

When the trousers had eventually fallen to Chandlers ankles, Kent stood mere inches from him and slid his own pyjamas down somewhat self-consciously.

 

Chandler pulled back the duvet on the bed and slid himself in not breaking eye contact with the dark eyes watching him, holding the duvet aloft and his arm outstretched for Kent to join him.

 

They lay quite still at first, Chandler’s arms around Kent’s head and the mop of dark curls against his broad chest, breathing each other in. When Kent slid one thigh between Chandler’s it brought the heat they were both doing there best to control, together. Kent let out a low moan and moved his hips in a small circle seeking maximum contact and Chandler’s breath hitched in his throat. He ran one large palm down Kent’s back and rested on his round arse pulling him up against him again. Kent thrust his hand between them suddenly affronted by the presence of the material separating them and struggled out of his own as Chandler lifted his hip in order for his to be pulled down. When they re-joined, flesh to flesh, Chandler could feel himself throbbing between their bodies, and answered with equal eagerness and as Kent began to rock his hips. He felt the stickiness of pre-cum on his skin.

 

“Do you want to…” Kent’s voice was breathless and rough in the intimacy of their silence. “Do you want to, you know…?” He tried again. Chandler raised his eyebrow at him and Kent smiled. “Do you wanna fuck me, Joseph Chandler?” He asked, eyes slightly uncertain. All chandler could do was thrust himself up against the smaller frame and whisper “Yes, yes…..”.

 

Kent reached into his bedside table and brought out a small bottle, he shifted himself round so he was on his back and chandler leant over him propped up on his elbows. Kent pushed him gently up to a sitting position and took his hand, kissing his middle finger gently he squeezed the little bottle over it and ran his own fist up and down the digit eliciting a small groan from Chandler. Kent lay back down and bent his legs up as Chandler moved in between them. He placed one hand against Kent’s narrow chest and kissed the inside of his knee before running his newly slippery finger along the sensitive area between his balls and his anus. Chandler gently probed the opening, feeling a jolt of need hit him right between the legs.

 

“Please…. I’m, just please…” Kent whined trying to push himself down on Chandler. Chandler eased his finger inside as Kent ached up off the mattress into his hand trying to hold him down, he moved around before adding another finger gently opening him up but he could feel Kent was more than ready for him so he took the little bottle applying as much as possible with as little touch to himself as he could manage.

 

He hooked Kent’s knees over his hips as he positioned himself low against him. He rested his bobbing head on Kent’s puckered and wanting entrance and fixed his eyes on his. They held each others gaze as Chandler gripped Kent’s hips and slid into him. Kent opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Chandler held his gaze until he was filling inside, only then allowing he held breath out dropping his head to Kent’s chest with a guttural moan.

 

“God, Kent. Jesus….” He panted and then began to pull out, slowly, slowly before thrusting back in a little harder this time. Kent moaned against his hair and rocked back towards him. Chandler could feel that it didn’t matter how slowly he went, this wasn’t going to last all that long and so as he picked up a little pace he reached between there bodies and wrapped his hand around Emerson’s dripping, rock hard cock. He lifted himself up slightly to give him some space and he fell into a rhythm pulling out as his fist ran down the length of Kent.

 

“Joe, I.. a bit higher just…. Nnngggg” Chandler moved upward and obviously hit what he was aiming for because Kent bucked against him and his eyes rolled back gently and it only took two thrusts before he spilled his seed all over Chandlers hand and stomach. Watching him intently, drinking in the sight of Kent’s ecstasy, Chandler followed filling Kent with his own warmth and collapsing down on him breathing hard against him, but he didn’t pull out.

 

Neither of them moved as they came down, Kent simply wrapped his legs around the back of chandler and they stayed pressed against each other until Chandler eventually soft enough to come free from Kent, rolled gently to his side gathering Kent in his arms as he turned.

 

“Kent… Emerson… I….”

 

“I don’t ever want to move again…” Kent pushed his face further into the slightly sweaty chest in front of him.

 

Joe pressed his lips to the top of Kent’s head and spoke into his hair

 

“Kent, I… I just….”

 

“I love you, Joe” Kent sighed.

 

Chandler felt the most glorious ache build in his chest and he tightened his grip on the smaller form entangled with his.

 

“Yeah, that” He said. “Love”.

 

 

* * *

 

End

EDIT; I realised that good old spell check had changed conversation to convocation rather a lot. Sorry about that! 

 

* * *

 

Thank you so much for reading! This is my first fic, so i would really appreciate some feed back. 

 

Axxx

 


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